


As The Crow Flies

by Mistress_Of_Monsters



Series: The Shadows Whisper [1]
Category: Dishonored (Video Games)
Genre: Dual Deity AU, Low Chaos Corvo, M/M, Mostly Canon Compliant, Original Character(s), Slight Timeline Changes, Slow Burn, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-06
Updated: 2018-11-05
Packaged: 2019-03-27 21:21:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13889373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mistress_Of_Monsters/pseuds/Mistress_Of_Monsters
Summary: The Outsider isn't the only god lurking in the shadows of Dunwall.Corvo Attano discovers he's much more interesting than he ever intended; when fate deals him an unfair hand he finds himself facing more than just the Void.





	1. Watched

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [[ Hey everyone! Thanks for joining me for this little adventure. This is going to mostly follow the main- cannon- story of the Dishonored series, but with some slight changes and additional characters. The timeline might be altered a bit just so that a few things make a bit more sense, not entirely sure how much yet, though. I'm calling it the "Dual Deity AU" because of reasons and because I'm dramatic as all hell. ]]

During his stay in Coldridge, Corvo frequently experienced bizarre hallucinations. Crows flocked outside his cell, peering down at him with beady crimson eyes from atop the vents, unseen by the guards stalking the halls beneath them. At night he could hear the click of a dog’s claws against the stone floors, but never see the animal in question, only the ever shifting shadows that appeared to come more and more alive each passing day. At one point a cat yowled from somewhere further inside the dark depths of the prison, the unearthly keening echoing in his ears even as the guard across from him snored on in his chair, oblivious. When he awoke the next morning a massive rat had lain lifeless beside his head. He could have sworn he saw small, delicate pawprints leading into his cell that disappeared when he blinked. Chalking it up to his pitiful state of being and the constant torture he’d been forced to endure as Burrows and Campbell tried prying a false confession from him, he attempted to ignore the strange going ons that seemed to haunt his every waking moment ever since coming to Coldridge.

  
  
That is until the supposed “Loyalists” help spring him free of his cell with a paid off guard and an all too convenient key.

 

The back of his neck prickled as soon he stepped outside his cell and he gets the gut feeling of eyes watching him. As he moved through the prison, he constantly pushed it away as simple paranoia and nothing else- even as he hears the soft echo of footsteps mirroring his own. When he breaks free of the ever present chill of the stone and shadows and into the sunlight for the first time in months, he is overcome with relief- even as bullets fly past his head and alarms scream in his ears, all he can feel is a rising sense of “ _finally._ ” As he sprints from the ledge and over into the open water, his mind is whirling with plans and now no longer impossible possibilities, paying no mind to the shouts of the enraged guardsmen. He’s not sure what makes him do it but something whispers in his head in that last few seconds, causing him to glance back just moments before he hits the waves.

 

If he’d had the time to register it he’d say his blood felt as if it had turned to ice, his heart stopping cold in that fraction of a second as his eyes lifted and met with something straight from a nightmare, the shadows themselves seeming to literally _pull_ themselves off of the walls and merge into something almost human in shape, breath stuttering as piercing eyes meeting silently with his own. A soundless gasp left him and he could feel a strange, almost primal terror building in his chest- he blinks and the moment shatters, the dark surface of the water rushing up around him. The water begins to fill his lungs when he forgets to hold his breath, still too shocked to fully understand whats happening as the the current slowly drags him down. As he slowly loses consciousness, something tugs and pulls him back up from the depths, even as his mind numbs. Before he passes out, his thoughts swirl with the shadowy face that had gazed down at him, the eerie figure burned into the back of his mind.

 

…

 

When he awoke he found himself face first in the mud and muck. Little bits of algae and who knows what else stuck to his face, clinging to his hair and what remained of his clothes. Buttons were missing, little tears dotted the entirety of his coat, and he was pretty sure something had torn at his pants if the small rows of teeth marks were to be believed. It was a miracle the hagfish had only managed to do that much damage, especially considering his entire lower half was still beneath the filthy river water. Taking inventory, he realized he still had the weapons he’d stolen from the guards, even though he was certain that he’d dropped them in the fall. A vial of Sokolov’s “cure” for the plague lay half buried in the mud beside his face, gleaming up from its glass vial at him innocently. Brushing the cattails aside, he stared at it for a moment before deciding it wasn’t worth bothering. It was hardly the strangest thing to have happened to him.

 

Glancing about, he quickly pushed himself up against a near wall, eyes trained on a few lingering guards. They were no doubt still looking for him- or at the very least, his body. Fortunately, his clothing was dark and the cattails and various river reeds provided good cover as he made his way towards the sewer entrance. He only hoped his new “friends” were willing to help him after they discovered the state he was in, half-starved and body battered from the still fresh scars littering his body.

 

If Corvo hadn’t been fond of torture before his imprisonment, he certainly wasn’t now.

 

The hinges creaked warningly as he pushed the door open, carefully peering around it before stepping inside. Making sure it was firmly shut behind him, he took a few steps forward, looking about before he spotted another note, this time nailed to a crate on one wall. Moving closer, he could feel a sigh of relief leave him as he spotted the food, ignoring the note as he made quick word of sawing the can open. Hunger still gnawed at his belly, and if the weight of exhaustion tugging at his limbs was anything to go by, he knew it would be best to have as much energy as possible. It wouldn’t do to fall asleep so close to the prison, if nothing else but for the rats he could hear scuttling about. Who knew how many had the plague in them, driving them mad.

 

Scanning the note briefly he continued on his way, ignoring the stench of the foul sewage and- were those corpses? The thought didn’t bother him as much as it probably should have. He simply soldiered on. Swimming through more filth and questionable water, stepping carefully over the dead, now and again crawling on pipes high above the floor in order to avoid rats that were all too happy to nip at his heels- it wasn’t hard to see why the guards preferred to leave the sewers alone. At least it made collecting the loot others had left behind all the easier, even if he nearly took a crossbow bolt to the knee.

 

What guards were patrolling were easily avoided- after all they never once thought to actually look _up_ . It didn’t take him long to find the exit, although he would admit the sight of the boatman did startle him at first. The older man was nice enough, though Corvo couldn’t help but be wary. After everything that happened, he could hardly trust _himself_ anymore.

 

...

  
Samuel Beechworth was an interesting character. He seemed perfectly calm as they made their way down the river, despite the fact that even before the Empress’ assassination Corvo had been renowned for his excellent swordsmanship. He was all too happy to chatter in the background, not once bothered by the half-hearted responses he was given. It made him wonder just how much the old boatman had seen, that helping an escaped convict- possible _murderer_ \- was just another part of his day. Corvo decided that he liked him.

 

When they docked, he was admittedly a bit apprehensive to step inside the pub. Who would he meet? What would they be like? What kind of name was the “Loyalists” anyways? Doubt lingered at the back of his mind, even as he pushed open the door and took a cautious step inside. He certainly wasn’t prepared to see a naval admiral and a lord sitting there waiting for him. Honestly it sounded like the beginning of a terrible joke.

 

“Ah! Corvo, made in once piece did you?” If he was surprised he didn’t show it, even though both Havelock and Pendleton were no doubt just as stunned that he’d walked through the door as he was seeing the pair of them in a quarantined district, drinking in an old rundown pub. He merely nodded in greeting, now quite sure what to say. He simply followed Havelock further inside, perching himself on one of the bar stools. He declined the drink they offered him, content to listen to whatever their plans were. He was polite enough as he listened, giving the occasional bit of input- he was however was much more happy to talk to Piero about weapons and whatever strange devices the inventor had for him. Piero might have been a bit odd himself, but he was far more comfortable talking with him than either Havelock or Pendleton. He couldn’t say why exactly, but the pair gave him a strange vibe. He wasn’t sure he liked it.

 

The mask however made him bite back a laugh. It was a bit cliche for his tastes, but if they wanted him to be some kind of vengeful spirit he wasn’t going to waste time arguing with them about it. He would simply wait until he was alone to chuckle at the irony of it. No doubt the Overseers would throw a fit if they ever saw him wearing the thing. It would almost be worth getting caught just to see their reactions. He managed to keep his thoughts to himself during the little “briefing” they gave him, but was all too relieved when someone suggest he get some rest. He didn’t even bother to look to see who’d spoken; it was a miracle that he’d kept himself from swaying the entire time they had.

 

The bed was plain but he’d slept on worse and it wasn’t like he had much time to complain about it either way. He was out as soon as his head hit the pillow. He just wasn’t expecting to wake up in the Void.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [[ Let me know what you think! Leave a comment below! Feel free to tell me your thoughts or if you notice any errors in my writing. I don't have a Beta- I do all that myself atm- so I might have missed a few things here and there. I can't wait to see how this goes!
> 
> Oh, and feel free to follow me on Tumblr! I post art and random stuff now and again. http://mistress-of-monsters.tumblr.com ]]


	2. New Opportunities

Corvo wasn’t quite sure to make of the Outsider.

 

The “mark” as he’d called it certainly seemed as if it could be useful, but he was curious as to just how much such a power would cost him. Gods weren’t know to simply give things away for free, even if they were an ancient whale creature that came from the Void. It might have had the face of a young human boy but something told him that there was much more to the Leviathan than met the eye. It wouldn’t do for him to make an enemy of the Outsider, no matter how much just being in the man’s- _thing’s_ \- presence made his skin crawl.

 

Learning how to actually use said powers was another thing entirely. He’d nearly tripped over the edge of the strange islands countless times, stumbling every time he left the “Blink.” He couldn’t see anyone else around him but he had no doubt that the Outsider was watching from _somewhere_ , no doubt laughing at his sloppy footwork. It made his gut churn as the world slowed around him, regardless of how many times he used it. It didn’t help that Jessamine’s corpse- or at least something that looked like it- lay just a few feet away, blood creating a crimson halo around her face. There was no telling with the Void and he didn’t want to linger near what could actually be her body.

 

Papers hovered in the air around him as he moved from island to island, their words blurred and nonsensical.

 

_You couldn’t save her you couldn’t save her you couldn’t save her-_

 

As if he didn’t know that already.

 

Whatever the Outsider’s game, he wasn’t too keen on playing it.

 

The Void whirled around him as he moved, like the endless tide crashing repeatedly against the shore. A faint keening note rang out from further within, a broken whalesong that echoed faintly inside his head. Time seemed frozen around him, even though he knew that there was a high chance that nothing he saw was truly real. Vials of a mysterious blue elixir floated in midair, stones shifting in the empty spaces between islands each time he stepped forward, as if following his every movement. The entire Void seemed to be carefully watching him, monitoring either his abilities or reactions. It was difficult to tell.

 

Corvo startled when the island he landed on brought him face to face with Emily, for a bizarre moment making him wonder how the hell she’d made her way into the Void before he noticed that she too seemed as still as a statue. Perhaps she was. He carefully picked up the letter that hung just beside her hand, glancing at it for a moment before slipping it gingerly into his pocket. He resisted the urge to smash the hilt of his sword into the equally still Campbell’s face, instead using the time to look around him. A chest provided another of the odd blue vials but little else.

 

With a sigh, he simply moved on.

 

The following island held the Outsider himself, though Corvo honestly couldn’t tell if that was a good or bad thing. He half listened as the deity went on about choices and his powers, eyes more focused on the bizarre world around him. Just how far did the Void _go?_ If he fell would he ever make it back up? What even _was_ the Void? His eyes drifted back to the young man half standing half floating before him, seemingly normal except for the gouged out look of his eyes. If he looked closely he could almost see something inside the mess of tar, like the flickering of a thousand images in rapid succession.

 

He didn’t want to take the Heart.

 

The very sight of the thing was… Unnerving. Disgust was no doubt written across his face, even as the Outsider grabbed one of his hands and placed the vile thing in his palm. It was still _beating_ for fucks sake. It wasn’t often that Corvo considered rejecting gifts given to him- especially those given by ancient gods of the Void- but every fibre of his being was longing to chuck the accursed thing back into the depths of the Void itself. A part of him knew that even if he did the thing would undoubtedly find a way back to him somehow.

 

 _‘Corvo…’_ a quiet female voice whispered from somewhere within the mess of flesh and clockwork. He _knew_ that voice, it was the one that had haunted his dreams for years. It was enough to make him forgo common sense and actually throw it, full strength and in full sight of the whale god straight into the abyss below.

 

…

 

It was on his bedside table when he awoke.

 

...

 

A bitter chill ran through Dunwall, the wind picking up until the city was cloaked in shadows cast by heavy cloud cover. The sun was just barely able to peek through now and again during the day, the moon’s light smothered under the gathering storm. The sound of hounds calling to one another rang out through the night, distant and faint as the howling winds grew. Common folk stayed indoors, tightly shutting their windows and doors. Even the guards seemed on edge, keeping close to one another and their walls of light.

 

No one roamed the streets on such a night.

 

No one except Corvo.

 

Every instinct was screaming at him to turn back around and take refuge in the Hounds Pits Pub, to ignore the siren call of something strange that lingered just at the edge of his senses. The faint flickering lamplight of whale oil had long since been snuffed out, the late hour seeing many to their beds. At least, for those who could afford such a luxury. The rich hid behind their heavy doors and fancy locks while the poor huddled close together in the rundown buildings that littered the city. There was no one to see him as he leapt from rooftop to rooftop, the battering winds muting his footsteps as he moved across the once neat balconies.

 

He didn’t intend to pause outside one of the houses in the Distillery District, having paid it no mind until he heard the telltale of glass shattering against brick. For a frightening moment he thought he’d somehow been seen, ducking back against the building as he tried frantically to figure out who had spotted him. It wasn’t the City Watch he found, however. Curious and a bit relieved, he peered over the rusted metal railing and towards the cobblestones below, watching as a trio of men battered their fists against one of the many doors lining the street.

 

Were they attempting a robbery? He looked dubiously up at the outside of the building, seeing nothing but a few obviously ruined rooms and poorly boarded up windows. Surely there was little of value in such a place? Frowning, Corvo slipped the Heart out from his coat, watching in surprise as it beat fast, the small glass window on its face glowing ever so faintly as he pointed it towards the rundown structure. Keeping it steady in his palm, he carefully blinked onto the open balcony with it in his grasp, pausing in momentary confusion as he came face to face with an upside down boat. Not quite sure he wanted to know what the story behind the oddity was, he quietly freed the chunk of whalebone from it. A rune was a rune, after all. Even if he didn’t really know what he was supposed to do with it.

 

“Dear? Is that you, my dear?” An old woman’s voice suddenly came from downstairs, startling him out of his thoughts and perhaps more than a few years of his life. Fumbling for a moment he very nearly dropped the rune as he straightened, making his way towards the staircase and checking to see whether there really was anyone there. He’d not noticed the elderly woman’s presence when he’d come in, and even with his dark vision it was hard to spot the hunched over form lingering near the kitchen sink.

 

“Is that you dear husband?” The woman asked, milky white eyes darting about before settling eerily close to where Corvo stood, silent. “No, no you’re not him. You’re not the black eye’d groom- but oh! You’ve seen him haven’t you? Granny can tell.” Was she truly blind? He wondered, eyeing the old woman warily. He didn’t resist when she pressed a key into his palm, listening as she rattled on about gentlemen callers and a young man with dark eyes. Had this old crone somehow seen the Outsider? Something about her put him on edge, a danger lurking in her eyes that was more than just insanity. _No,_ the Heart whispered. _She is much more than an old madwoman._ He’d heard stories of old Granny Rags, the numerous horror stories that people only whispered in the dark. Whether or not she really was a witch, he wasn’t too keen on finding out.

 

With a polite manner that only came from years of dealing with the upper class in court, he bowed and promised to chase the men away. It wasn’t all that difficult after all, a few darts here and there and the lot of them quickly ran off, cursing as their bleeding arms stung with each movement. He happily accepted her task in return for another rune- if nothing else but because it allowed him to leave as quickly as possible.

 

Very nearly running from Granny Rag’s house, he blinked back onto the safety of the distant rooftops. A cold sweat had formed across his skin, the old woman’s words utterly unnerving him. There was something wrong with the old crone, that much he was certain of, but he really didn’t want to find out what that something was.

 

...

 

It was all too easy to slip past the thugs guarding the door that lead to Slackjaw’s main distillery considering he didn’t even need to use the door to get inside, bypassing it by simply climbing up and above the wall itself. Corvo only had a few sleep darts after all, and he really didn’t feel like wasting them on a couple of half drunk gangsters. He stayed atop the pipes running lengthwise to one building, his light frame making it easy to perch atop the admittedly thin metal. At least there were some upsides to his near starvation at Coldridge.

 

He hunkered down when the wind sent a particularly strong gust his way, eyes trained on the men shuffling below him. They kept close to the building, most of them huddled around a makeshift fire someone had managed to build in one of the empty barrels that littered the district. (How the barrel itself didn’t burn he hadn’t the faintest clue.) The flames writhed in the wind, throwing their light haphazardly across the yard. He did his best to ignore the way their shadows clung to the walls, creating grotesque and alien shapes in the corners of his eyes. It was slightly more difficult to push away the feeling that the shadows were following his every move.

 

Voices drifted up to him from his perch, distorted by the wind. It was difficult to make out more than a few words at a time and most of what did reach was him useless so he simply tuned them out, eyes momentarily focused on the expanse of piping beneath his feet. One slip and he’d break more than a few bones- “ _ You sound afraid. _ ”

 

Corvo found himself jerking back in surprise, choking out a muted gasp as he scrambled to keep his footing. His hands clawed at the metal in a desperate attempt to keep from dropping to the ground, eyes wide as he threw his head from side to side. The voice had suddenly come from  _ right beside him _ . Fighting down panic he scanned below him again- only breathing a sigh of relief when he saw that no one had moved. He wanted to merely pass it off as one of the men below, but a nagging thread of doubt kept catching at his mind. 

 

The voice had sounded like a  _ woman’s _ , with an accent foreign to even him. It hadn’t sounded like someone from Dunwall, nor anyone he knew from Morley, Serkonos, or even Tyvia. Utterly confused, he took a closer look at the men still bunched up around the fire. No, none of them were female, and they were far too far away to be heard so clearly. Steadying himself, he closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths, trying to slow the frantic pounding of his heart. The Heart was silent in his coat, he had a brief thought that it was what had spoken but no, he knew Jess-  _ its  _ voice. He would never mistake it for anything else.

 

Breathing ragged, he carefully adjusted his footing and continued on. It was too dangerous to stay out in the open too long even if it was pitch black out and he didn’t feel like tempting fate any more than he already was. Something flickered at the edge of his vision, lurking there no matter how many times he turned his head to look behind him.

 

The unseen eyes watched him as he stalked through the old whiskey distillery, through the dank alleyways and all the way back to Granny Rags. He could feel the telltale itch of his skin even as he reassured the old crone that he’d successfully poisoned the gang’s elixir, the hair on the back of his neck standing in warning even as he slunk back to the Hounds Pits Pub to store all the runes and unused charms he’d gathered. He could swear the swarm of hagfish gathered near the shoreline were watching his every move as he went to talk to Piero about upgrades for his gear, even if they had disappeared by the time he left again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [[ Thanks for reading everyone! I'm getting closer to revealing another main character, but I thought it would be good to tease them a bit in this one.
> 
> And I don't know about any of you but when I first saw the Heart I was like "Hell NO." Seriously, the thing is so uuuuuugh. Too creepy for me man. No thanks Outside, you can keep your weird taxidermy shit to yourself. ]]


	3. Choices

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [ Sorry for the wait everyone! I had trouble figuring out exactly how I wanted this chapter to play out. Hope you like it! ]

It was a simple thing to make his way into the Overseer’s compound. It wasn't so easy to keep his nerve once in there.

 

The Heart pulsed warningly against his chest, the whispers of its voice begging him to leave as quickly as possible. Everything about the place set him on edge, the hairs on the back of his neck standing up against his collar, a small tinge of unease gnawing at his gut. This wasn’t a welcome place for someone such as him.

 

There were a few people wandering the street below him, masked in their usual attire. It was all too easy to slip by them via the wide decorative edges of the main building,  the broad length of stone slab both giving him a clear path to follow and a decent bit of cover. It didn’t hurt that his “blink” let him simply appear on the high ledges with little effort, giving him access to otherwise impossible to reach places. If he ever got back the title of Royal Protector he was going to make sure every guard in the Watch learned to check _above_ them, because really the architecture alone was making it too easy for a would-be assassin to slip in and out unnoticed. It was almost sad how quickly he could avoid the Overseers, even with the hounds they kept at their sides. A few tossed bottles and a few blinks and he was able to crawl into one of the open windows with minimum effort, his feet landing quietly on the vibrant red carpet below.

 

The decorative wooden screen to his side provided him with the perfect cover- even if there was no one else in the room with him. A sliver of movement to his right caused him to jerk his head to the side, wary of an unseen guard. Scanning the room Corvo’s eyes eventually landed on a pair of drinking glasses, finding himself walking forward as curiosity got the better of him. It _looked_ like normal wine, the kind you’d find at any noble’s table. (Perhaps the movement had simply been the wind pulling at the curtains?) When he neared however he could feel the Heart thump violently against his chest, a sharp hiss of _‘poison’_ stilling his hand. His mind recalled Callista’s worried plea, realization dawning on him as he heard the faint murmur of voices in the hall just beyond. In a moment of pure instinct he let his hand swipe across the table, sending both the bottle and accompanying glasses crashing to the floor.

 

Darting back behind the screen, he hid himself just as the doors burst open.

 

“It’s so good that you could be with us today Captain- _what the!_ Who made this mess?” Campbell’s voice erupted from the center of the room- the High Overseer’s meeting room he now realized- as the man no doubt moved towards the shattered mess sitting atop the long table that took up most of the space. He could just barely see the pair through a few carved out slits in the screen, the faint crackle of flames in a fireplace and the rustle of clothing the only noise outside of Campbell’s quiet sigh of frustration. A series of emotions flashed across the man’s face before he schooled himself, turning to Curnow with a small embarrassed smile. Even from where Corvo was crouching, it was terribly fake. “I must apologize Captain, something must have gotten in and knocked our glasses over. Can I offer you another? I have this nice vintage downstairs, for just such an occasion…” Corvo watched as the High Overseer led the man back out into the hallway, rattling on with apologies and other useless chatter as they made their way back down the stairs outside the room.

 

Taking a deep breath, he waited until the voices grew just a tad fainter before carefully stepping out from behind the screen. He spared the shattered glass a quick glance before turning and making his way out of the room, eyes scanning the hall for any wandering guards. Curnow was all too relaxed for his liking, apparently trusting enough to follow more or less blindly behind the High Overseer as he led him deeper into the compound. Just _looking_ at Campbell put him on edge- the man had always been a snake, even when Jessamine was still alive- and he didn’t doubt that wherever he was taking the good Captain would end poorly for one or both of them.

 

He kept to the corners as he followed them, ducking back behind a doorway now and again when another Overseer crossed into their path. He hated how brightly lit the buildings were, hated how few shadows there were to help keep him out of sight. A few darts had to find themselves in an unwitting guard when they passed through a set of double doors, the quiet rustle of fabric the only sign that anyone had been there at all as he dragged the body back into a conveniently placed alcove. It was tedious more than anything, keeping pace with the duo as they walked. He almost breathed a sigh of relief when Campbell finally stopped, eyes trained on- oddly enough- a blank wall. There was the bust of some past Overseer to the man’s right but not much else, except for the usual Overseer banners that lined every available space.

 

It was a bit cliche he had to admit when the obnoxiously out of place gem eye on the bust turned out to be a button that opened a secret door. A small childish part of Corvo wanted to roll his eyes at the set-up, unable to believe that _that_ was the best Campbell could do. It was a bit risky but he blinked in right behind them, ducking back behind a series of haphazardly placed crates before either man could so much as turn to check behind them. The room was filled with the things, fortunately.

 

Corvo purposefully ignored the fancy drapes and very obvious mattress at the far end of the room. He didn’t need that kind of mental image of the High Overseer seared into his brain. He had enough nightmares as it was. Instead, he watched as Campbell directed Curnow over to a painting of himself, pointing out minute details of it with obvious arrogance and pride. As the Captain admired Sokolov’s work he didn’t notice the man freeing his sword from its scabbard, still too distracted by the artwork. Gritting his teeth Corvo lunged forward, hand glowing as he twisted time and space around him, propelling himself forward and into Campbell’s back. With a grunt he wrapped his arms around the man’s neck as they collided, dragging him to the ground. Curnow startled at the noise and whirled around, eyes widening as he watched Corvo force the sword from the High Overseer’s hand, arms restraining him by brute force alone. He was silent with shock, stock still as Corvo let the would-be assassin slump bonelessly to the ground.

 

“Outsider’s eyes!” The Captain’s hand shot to the hilt of his sword, fingers grazing the pommel before freezing in place. His eyes flicked across Corvo’s mask to the now unconscious man lying at his feet, the would-be murder weapon gleaming innocently on the floor beside its owner. “Y-you? But he…” Curnow was a flustered mess, though it was understandable considering a so-called assassin had just saved his life from a high ranking official. His eyes flicked from Corvo to Campbell a few frantic times before he simply lowered his arm and shook his head.

 

“Why-? No, no forget it I don’t want to know. I should just be thankful for my life.”

 

Considering how many wanted posters there were of the “masked assassin” the good Captain was all too happy to let him go, almost running in his haste to flee the Outsider’s compound- his fellow guardsmen following quickly behind him. If Corvo weren’t so worried about dealing with the High Overseer he would have watched the spectacle with great amusement. It wasn’t every day you saw an entire mob of guards turn tail and run from an Overseer building like a scared bunch of rabbits.

 

Ignoring the clamour outside, he turning and made his way over to the still unconscious Campbell. Just as he was about to kneel down and reach for the man’s prone form the air was abruptly filled with a soft humming. The quiet whisper of melody made him pause, unable to resist looking back into the empty hallway behind him. A female voice began weaving around him as the gentle notes of what sounded eerily like a lullaby filtered out from somewhere else in the compound. Another, more masculine voice joined in- and it wasn’t until he found himself standing entranced in the middle of the open stairway that he realized that the one who’d begun singing along was _him._

 

Dazed, he wandered back into Campbell’s secret room to retrieve the corrupt High Overseer, (though honestly, what Overseer wasn’t?) careful not to step on the man’s discarded blade. But what to do with the man himself, Corvo didn’t know. The poison wine was out of the question, and though he had a few other weapons he wasn’t sure if it was really worth wasting any on someone already unconscious. Perhaps he could simply use his sword, but the thought of killing someone with the weapon he’d sworn to use to protect the Empress with left a bitter taste in his mouth.

 

“ _He doesn’t deserve death_.” A voice whispered from the depths of his mind, though it was hard to tell if it was someone else’s or his own. He agreed with it wholeheartedly regardless.

 

Corvo found his eyes drifting back to the still open doorway behind him, lingering at the stairway. Something was niggling in the back of his mind, a thought that he couldn’t quite grasp. Some small instinctive part of him wanted to investigate, to chase the sound. The Heart was silent against his chest, or perhaps he simply couldn’t hear it over the rush of blood in his ears.

 

After a brief internal debate he found himself following the stranger’s voice, feet moving without really needing him to command them to as he searched for the source of the quiet music. It grew louder at certain doors, before fading away again at others. It was maddening. It felt like he was chasing a ghost, unable to properly grasp it before it slipped away again. Like smoke through his fingers. Through various halls and side-rooms, past the open windows he had made his way in with originally- he followed. It wasn’t until the voice had disappeared that Corvo realized that he had stopped, eyes staring blankly at a seemingly run of the mill doorway.

 

Curious (and perhaps a little frantic at this point), he reached out and carefully opened it, eyes widening in surprise when his eyes met what was inside.

 

The excommunication room.

 

“ _The choice is yours alone._ ”

 

The words rang in his head, clinging to the edges of his mind even as his gaze was locked onto the chair set up in the middle of the room. The heretic’s brand lay innocently atop a metal side table, the dark tarnished metal glowing unnaturally bright in the dim lighting. The room was empty and undisturbed, a light layer of dust coating it- and yet the brand looked as if it had just been dipped into a fire, the white hot edges hissing with heat.

 

There were no other ways to get into the room.

 

His thoughts were a maelstrom as he made his way back to the hidden room, filling his head with a harsh white noise that only grew with every step he took. It was a hurricane by the time he returned, the noise drowning out even Campbell’s screams as Corvo lowered the burning brand to the man’s skin.

  
...

 

His head was silent as he made his way back to the Hounds Pits Pub. The Heart didn’t say a word.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [ I had to cut this chapter a bit short because I have quite a bit of stuff I want to introduce in the next one. Some interesting things are going to happen to Corvo soon. ; 3 
> 
> The song was based of the Pan's Labyrinth Lullaby btw. https://youtu.be/19bBGxf5k6k
> 
> Please feel free to leave a comment below! Let me know what you think of the story so far! ]


	4. Dreams or Reality?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [[ Hello again everyone! Thanks for holding out so long for the next update! I've been super busy irl lately so I've not been working on stories and the like.
> 
> Also quick note, I beta everything myself so if you notice any big grammatical errors please let me know! ]]

Footsteps echoed softly against the cobblestone, only the slightest trace of sound in an otherwise silent alleyway. The faint scent of rot lingered, clinging to every stone. More and more places were like that now, run down districts and high society alike beginning to erode under the constant stress of the Rat Plague. The rats themselves lurking in every dark corner, watching, waiting for a meal. Their quiet chittering was enough to set Corvo on edge.

 

His boots tap with each step, scuffing against the rough ground. Much of the city had fallen into ruin, the cracked brick and broken, boarded windows barely holding the buildings together. Roots had begun to weave in and out of the gaps, small vines climbing up the walls from unattended gardens. Little flowers and weeds had sprouted, cluttering the once neat and tidy yards and roadways. Small viscous thorns dug at the unwary, bushels of once beautiful roses becoming sharp walls, unyielding to even the most determined hands.

 

Little tendrils creeped across the stone, growing thicker as he passed. (When had they gotten so bad? Had it really been so long since he’d walked these streets?) Ivy clung to the shuttered windows, so different from when Jessamine had still lived. Even in the poorest of districts the roads had been clear, the small gardens that some would manage to carve out still neat and tidy. There had been pride in such things before the rats ate them all away. Vines rose out of the earth, twisting and twining about each other until they seemed to form a single solid shape as one. He paid them no mind at first, eyes focused only on the road ahead of him- until he realized that he could no longer _see_ said path, the end of the alley having seemingly stretched into an endless blur before him. Alarmed, Corvo glanced behind him only to come face to face with an endless void, the cobblestone falling off into a deep nothingness that he didn’t dare step near.

 

A low, quiet hum began in the back of his mind, like a long forgotten lullaby. It felt eerily familiar, yet he knew for certain he’d never heard the melody before. The voice however…

 

 _“ You are an ocean of waves_  
_Weaving a dream, like thoughts become a river stream_  
_Yet may the tide ever change_ _  
_ _Flowing like time, to the path, yours to climb._ ”

 

Out of the corner of his eye he could see something shift, watching in silent disbelief as the stones parted and were buried beneath a growing mass of roots. Their bark seemed to pulse quietly, as if they were the veins of a great beast. Vines clung to the old, filthy stone and made elegant yet chaotic patterns within themselves before being swallowed whole by their own mass. If Corvo hadn’t walked through that same alley on his way to the Overseer’s compound just a few hours ago he’d have thought they’d always been there. There were small fragile flowers clustered together all across the roots, glowing a soft baby blue in the pale moonlight. They seemed to grow brighter as he passed them, though he didn’t dare touch the delicate petals. There was something… Unnatural about them, something that made the hair on the back of his neck stand up on end.

 

 _“ Thou seek the light with an outstretched hand_  
_A divine blade lies before you_  
_So command the wake of dreams_ _  
_ _To restore the world, cut 'way the seams._ ”

 

The roots grew as he walked, breaking the road beneath them until all but a few stones showed through. It was with a start that he realized that the earth beneath his feet had turned copper and gold, like baked clay in the summer sun. Whirling around he found even the void behind him had changed, the familiar cobblestone of Dunwall disappearing and only untainted earth laying in its place. Instead of an alleyway a massive wall of vines had seemingly just appeared out of thin air, tightly wound like a braided rope and blocking off all access to the path he had just walked. Confused he dared press a hand up against them, finding them very much real as the rough surface of the thorns bit into his skin. Hissing in pain, he quickly drew back. Sucking the blood from his forefinger he took a moment to properly look around him, no longer entirely sure he was hallucinating.

 

 _" Join in our prayer, in our song, of birthrights and love_ __  
_Come the sun, illuminate the sky_ __  
_Pray that we may quell the dark_ __  
_Light take the throne_  
_Lost in thoughts all alone. "_

 

Around him the filth of the city had been overcome with the thick perfume of earth, alien plants filling both his nose and eyes. Flowers of all sizes erupted from the ground beneath them, their petals forming bizarre patterns as they stretched themselves towards the sky. He couldn’t recognize a single one, no matter how long he stared at them. Corvo could just barely see small figures moving in and out of the lush foliage surrounding him, though it was hard to see them in such weak light. Were they animals? Figments of his imagination? Out of the corner of his eye he glimpsed a flurry of wings, having just enough time to duck down before a mess of feathers burst forth. Startled he watched them disappear into branches far above him, only to realize that said branches were far _far_ higher than they had any right to be. He stood shadowed by trees easily twice the size of the entire Dunwall Tower, their broad branches blocking out all but a few slivers of moonlight.

 

He stood staring blankly at them as if struck. Surely this was just another bizarre fever dream?

 

“ _So many questions… So few answers._ ”

 

Startled, he jerked back and nearly toppled over when the roots beneath his feet twitched and then _moved_. Quick as a flash, the wooden tendrils wove around his legs and waist, locking him firmly in place. A stranger’s laughter filled his ears and he felt some small, crazy part of him stir in recognition at the sound. It was the voice that had been haunting him since Coldridge.

 

He hadn’t even noticed that the music had stopped.

 

“ _It’s so good to finally meet you Corvo. I’ve been waiting._ ”

 

Raising his head he saw a pair of gleaming golden eyes watching him from the canopy above, their figure hidden by the shadows. He could see something move in the dark, twisting as if to fully face him. He couldn’t tell if it was because of the naturally weak lighting or if the shadows he was looking at were actually moving themselves, leeching away the small fragments of moonlight that dared shine on the stranger’s perch. Pulse racing he could just barely hear the rustle of movement over his own rising terror. There was something unerringly _wrong_ about those eyes- something utterly inhuman in the way they watched him like something to dissect. He tried to ignore the way the Heart jolted against him in alarm from within his coat, mind filling with a small frantic keening (he’d actually forgotten that it was even there.) Corvo stood frozen, staring back as the eyes blinked and carefully moved down the trunk, disappearing for a moment before reappearing at the base. He didn’t question how it had moved so fast, merely swallowing silently and reaching unconsciously for the hilt of his folding blade.

 

He nearly jumped when a sharp bark of laughter broke the tension, the sound of genuine mirth catching him off guard. “ _Oh poor sweet thing, I’m not going to_ **_eat_ ** _you._ ” Corvo could only stare as an admittedly more human figure than he’d originally expected appeared from the brush, visibly tanned skin slowly appearing from beneath the web of vines. Shadows clung to their body even as they stepped into the light, pulsing and wavering in an invisible breeze- much like the Void had appeared to on the Outsider. Piercing golden eyes met his as he continued his inspection, amused where the whale god’s had been cold, empty. There was a glimmer of something ancient there and he quickly averted his gaze, throat dry as he realized he’d stepped into the jaws of a beast that was undoubtedly much more than he could handle.

 

A mane of black hair framed a feminine face, the dark locks falling just below their shoulders- or at least he thought it did, it swayed and shifted around them as if caught in some unknown current. Their eyes were bright as they smirked down at a still uncertain Corvo, swirling with a strange, almost alien light. He watched, fascinated, as the vines draping over their body simply _shifted_ , tucking themselves back and out of their way- _her_ way?

 

It was bizarre to say the least. Though with the way his life had been going in recent months, he probably shouldn’t have been nearly so surprised. Sentient plants were just another thing to add to the list.

 

“ _Relax, Corvo. I don’t intend on actually hurting you, I simply wish to speak with you._ ” The stranger stated calmly, chuckling and looking at him for all the world as he were merely a frightened child. They casually made their way to where he was still held in place by the winding roots, unfazed by the deathgrip he had on his sword or the sound of his heavy panting coming through the vents in his mask. Their voice had a faint echo- much like the Outsider’s had- but it was more as if two or more people were speaking one right after another rather than as if they were speaking into an empty room, the sound reflecting back at them. With a simple move of their arm they raised a hand to where Corvo stood trapped and gripped his white knuckles, easily removing his hand from the hilt and dropping it back at his side. Hidden within the confines of his coat he could hear the Heart stutter and shudder angrily.

 

“ _Try not to hurt yourself, it would make this all rather tedious._ ”

 

Eyes trained on the mysterious woman- though Void knew what they _actually_ were, _nothing_ was as it appeared anymore- he resisted the urge to flinch back at their touch, still not quite sure what to make of, well, _everything._ “Who a-are you?” His voice was rough from disuse and it pained him slightly to say anything at all, the words catching as he forced them out of his throat. He merely grit his teeth and bared it, watching with bated breath as they tilted their head and regarded him wordlessly. Corvo couldn’t contain his shudder when they merely sighed and reached towards his face, nearly drawing away when sharp nails tapped lightly against his mask with a quiet chuckle. “ _I hate not being able to properly look at someone when I talk to them. Would you mind removing the mask for this? It’s difficult to say any of this seriously when you look like a scarecrow. Awful things scarecrows, can’t even fly._ ”

 

He was slightly taken aback by the words, confused that the entity almost seemed to be… Joking? Suspicious, he carefully reached up with his free hand and unclasped the macabre skull mask hiding his expression, squinting slightly at the feel of fresh air hitting his face. Their demeanor was clearly the opposite of the Outsider’s, their expression light and almost friendly- if not a bit intimidating. He could almost trick himself into thinking he was talking to a normal person and not an undoubtedly ageless being with supernatural powers if it weren’t for the unholy light their eyes radiated.

 

If the Outsider’s eyes mirrored the Void he could only wonder what the liquid gold could possibly represent.

 

“ _Much better. “_ They piped up, interrupting his train of thought. With a soft clap of their hands before them they continued, ignoring Corvo’s obvious uncertainty. _“ Now we can make proper introductions- though as you may have noticed I already know who_ **_you_ ** _are._ “ Their eyes gleamed as they grinned, as if they clearly knew something he didn’t and found it endlessly amusing. He purposely ignored the glitter of fangs he saw peeking out at him as they spoke. They gestured towards where he stood still trapped in the vines for a moment, then back towards themself with a small flourish. “ _I am the Guardian. Of the ‘lost’ usually- though that really depends on who you ask and when. I watch over the forgotten places of this world and the many things hidden within it- of that which hides within the hearts of man._ ”

 

At their last few words they reached forward and pointed straight at his chest, close enough to just barely brush against the Heart’s pocket that he instinctively tried to move away. It was far too purposeful to be a simple accident, yet they didn’t even blink in reaction when the Heart jerked at the touch, shrieking and filling his head with a sharp hissing reminiscent of that of an angry tomcat. Swallowing down his growing anxiety, he latched onto the last thing they had said. “The hearts of man..?” he found himself asking, desperately trying to ignore the cold pit forming in his stomach.

 

“ _Let me put it simply, shall I? “_ Their gaze was unwavering, freezing him in place more than any restraints ever could. There was something unnatural about the way his muscles locked up as their eyes met at that moment, as if the contact had suddenly turned his blood to ice. _“ You’ve been forced to play a part that you never should have known, learned secrets that were never meant for you to learn. “_ He could feel the subtle threat behind the words, could almost swear the roots dug into his skin more with each one. Corvo could feel the sweat gathering in his palms, goosebumps rising on his skin as something akin to displeasure quietly crossed their face. Without warning the hand on his chest shifted and pulled his coat back, reaching inside and carefully removed the Heart the Outsider had given him from its confines, the look only deepening as it came into view. They twisted the organ in their fingers, flicking their eyes away and examining it with a frown. He couldn’t tell if the look they gave it was one of disgust or pity.

 

“ _The Leviathan is so terribly cruel isn’t he? Such double sided gifts he gives, claiming to be indifferent even when he hits you where you hurt the most_ . _Such a vicious game he plays..._ ” There was a bitterness to their words, and he didn’t miss the flash of irritation in their eyes as they looked at the admittedly grotesque trinket. Whatever distaste they had for the Heart was clearly returned as it practically thrashed in their grip, the shrill keening continuing even if its protests were ignored. He’d never heard it make such a pained sound before.

 

Fighting down the instinctive urge to reach out and simply snatch the Heart back, he fisted his free hand at his side and forced out a choked “W-what do you want?” in a fragile attempt to redirect both of their attentions to something else. Corvo flinched as their eyes met his again, ignoring the chill that ran up his spine as they smiled at him again. It wasn’t malicious, per say- but there was a danger hiding there, lurking just beneath the thin veneer of humanity. Like a wolf grinning down at a rabbit.

 

 _“ I want many things, Corvo. Some of which you can give me- some of which you can’t. But I think the better question here is, what do_ **_you_ ** _want?_ ”

 

What _he_ wanted? The words threw him a bit, finding himself unable to follow the sudden change in conversation- if you could even call it one. He was listening more than he was speaking- and it wasn’t entirely out of choice (for once.) He couldn’t tell if they were messing with him or if they actually cared what kind of answer they gave- though judging by the look on their face they apparently expected him to give them _something_ at the very least. Corvo could think of a million excuses to give instead, but the longer he stood there the more he almost felt… _Compelled_ to answer truthfully.

 

“I… I want to save Emily.” He blinked, surprised that the words had actually come from his mouth. He hadn’t intended to say something so vulnerable, let alone to someone- _something_ \- that could no doubt take every advantage of said weakness. For a moment he thought perhaps he hadn’t actually said them at all, the entity before him barely reacting with anything more than the quirk of a lip. With a quiet chuckle they lifted his free hand and placed the Heart in his open palm, eyes filled with something he couldn’t quite comprehend. It was almost like… Approval?

 

“ _Never forget that._ “

 

He didn’t understand what they meant but he wasn’t given a chance to think about it before they were speaking once more, their grin taking on a sharper, more mischievous edge as they slowly stepped away from him.

 

“ _Now then why don’t you wake up and find her?_ ”

 

“What-” Before he could even voice his question he felt a sudden weight against his chest, bark surging up around him as he was lifted and thrown back with force. The flowers blurred into a mess of color as he passed them, the rushing of wind in his ears echoing his rushing pulse as he felt his body drop, the roots disappearing into an endless void once more.

 

As darkness engulfed him he could swear he heard the faintest hum of a melody before he felt his body go slack and his mind fall into nothingness.

 

…

 

Corvo woke up in a cold sweat, eyes wide and frantic as he searched the room about him. He was back in the Hounds Pits Pub- in his usual room. And yet, he swore he could smell the faint earthy musk of the jungle still clinging to his skin. Had it been just another void induced dream? He didn’t remember laying down to sleep though- in fact, he couldn’t even recall _how_ he’d gotten back to his room in the first place. After leaving the Overseer’s to clean up their own mess he had left the district, but he couldn’t remember making it any further than that. Couldn’t remember _anything_ other than the alley in his dream (had it truly been a dream?) He shook himself, about to stand and get ready for the day when something caught his eye.

 

A single, frail baby blue blossom lay in his palm, the roots twisting gently around his wrist.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [[ Thanks for reading! Please like and leave a comment below if you enjoyed it! I enjoy reading your feedback! 
> 
> Btw the song in this chapter is "Lost in Thoughts All Alone." This is the version I based it off of: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lsz5ijRQvUY 
> 
> Come follow my tumblr if you want. I post random shitty memes and the rare snippet of art there. http://mistress-of-monsters.tumblr.com ]]


	5. Worry

Corvo found himself staring blankly at his palm, feeling the faintest touch of warmth radiate out from the fragile looking petals of the flower twined around his wrist. It reminded him of holding his hands out to a crackling fire in the winter, the plant somehow feeling like it had just been picked from a sunbaked field despite the obvious chill of the Dunwall air. Wary, he gently pulled at one of the roots and found it surprisingly easy to free himself of the complex braid they made. It wasn’t until it lay harmlessly atop his bed that he realized it had been wrapped around not just his hand but his _Mark_ \- the black lines glowing violently in the early morning light. A sharp jolt of surprise ran through him, that same cold pit twisting in his stomach forming as he stared at the seemingly innocent flower. Had it been some sort of message? A threat? But then _why-_ a sudden knocking started up at his door, sharply dragging his attention away from the mystery of the golden eyes entity and to whomever was outside his room. Startled he grabbed the baby blue flower and shoved it into his coat, ignoring the way it seemed to thrum against his chest as he stood.

 

“Lord Attano? Are you awake?” Calista’s voice rang out, giving him just enough time to grunt out an affirmative before she opened the door and peered inside. The woman looked weary and worn- no doubt from all that had happened in the city- but quietly happy. She gave him a small awkward smile, “I’m sorry to bother you, I just wanted to thank you for helping my uncle the other day. He sent a letter this morning, telling of a masked man that had saved his life.” She stepped into the room as she spoke and it was then that Corvo saw that she held something cupped in her hands, her eyes growing more determined as she spoke. Without an ounce of hesitation she placed what he could only guess was a family heirloom or some kind of keepsake on the small nightstand beside his bed with a nod, as if reassuring herself of something. He could only raise a brow, confused. “It’s something that has been in my family for years but… I wanted to repay you for what you’ve done. Please just take it.”

 

Without another word she turned on her heel and left the room, leaving Corvo bewildered and standing alone in his room with nothing but the gentle thrumming of the flower and an old heirloom that he supposed to do… _Something_ with. Did she expect him to sell it? He picked it up and slipped into one of his pockets but internally swore that he’d find a way to return it to Callista without her noticing later.

  


…

  


Corvo found himself outside after a hasty breakfast, unable to keep himself from wolfing down the food despite knowing that no one would dare snatch it away from him. He wasn’t in Coldridge anymore but that didn’t mean he could forget the long days of aching hunger, finding himself stashing food in his coat even though he no longer had any need to. Every time he passed through one of the abandoned houses that littered the city he found himself reaching for dusty tins and stale loaves of bread, bringing more food back from his outings than gold.He could sell abandoned paintings sure, but a small primal part of his brain whispered that any day he would be caught and dragged back into that hell, beaten and starved again and again until he finally died. He could still feel the sting of the Torturer’s knives, the scars still healing across his body aching at the memory.

 

Shaking the thoughts from his head he made his way to where Havelock and Pendleton seemed to be arguing quietly, curious to see what problems they could dig up for him next.

 

As it turned out it wasn’t the possible assassination of a important political figure but wandering plague victims that had the pair on edge. He ignored Havelock’s congratulations on finding such a “creative” way of dealing with the High Overseer, nearly flinching away when the man clapped him on his shoulder, the force jarring one of the barely healed gashes there. Hissing quietly to himself, he forced a smile before snatching the offered sewer key and making his retreat. The looks Pendleton had kept shooting him made his skin crawl, his nerves still too raw after his encounter with the Guardian to deal with whatever plans the pair were hatching behind closed doors. He’d dealt with nobles too many times to believe there weren’t any less… _favorable_ reasons the man was so keen on helping young Emily onto the throne.

 

He’d been betrayed enough times to be wary of supposed allies.

 

With a sigh he made his way to the sewer entrance, trying to ignore the pang in his chest at the thought of his daughter. She’d seemed so scared and alone when he’d seen her image in the Void, no doubt mourning the loss of not only her mother but himself as well. Did she even know if he was still alive? Was _she?_ The very thought made his eyes sting, forcing him to stop and lean against the rough brick of the small room with a shudder. Corvo hadn’t truly allowed himself to think about Emily since Jessamine’s death- or the Empress herself. He’d been to busy simply trying to survive in Coldridge, numbing himself to the outside world to escape the horrible reality of what had become his life. He couldn’t bear to let himself think when the blood trickled from his mouth after a day with the Torturer or when he was forced to eat one of the rats that had appeared fat and lifeless beside his head when the starvation gnawed at his bones, couldn’t force the fog from his brain as the fever burned its way across his skin.

 

It was hard to admit, but he hadn’t wanted to.

 

It was childish, acting as if ignoring everything would make it any less real. It was harder to forget when it was thrown in his face every day, seeing it with his own eyes how the city had fallen in the wake of Jessamine’s death, hearing it every time one of the “Loyalist’s” mentioned getting Emily back as if it wasn’t all he ever thought about.

 

Clenching his Marked hand at his side Corvo opened the sewer hatch at his feet, determined to get it over with so he could focus on what truly mattered- finding Emily.

  


…

  


The water lapped quietly at the rough wood of Samuel’s boat, the only sound except for the faint hum of the engine propelling them forward. He didn’t say anything as they wove their way through the river, keeping out of sight as the guards patrolled the streets above and the hagfish lurked below. Sam luckily was a man of few words when he wanted to be and sent Corvo off with a simple farewell and his usual promise of being there when the Royal Protector returned. Perhaps he sensed Corvo’s more solemn mood. Regardless of the reason he was grateful, giving the old boatman a nod before disappearing into the shadows.

 

The street was almost exactly like before, if not with a few more guards here and there. He passed them easily, keeping high above on the rooftops when he could and using the dim lighting to his advantage. If nothing else, the whale oil shortage provided him with more places to hide, the canisters used only when absolutely needed- and more often than not only on the Walls of Light rather than common street lamps on roads hardly anyone walked anymore.

 

He was passing through one of said alleys when he spotted some of Slackjaw’s men, nearly jumping out of his skin when on of said men spotted him and called out. He was halfway to blinking into a building above him when the man started talking, the words “Slackjaw wants to meet ya” causing him to still. He hadn’t been paying attention to the rest of whatever the thug had been saying but those few words were enough to pique his interest. Of course it could simply be a trap; no one knew it was him that had poisoned the gang’s elixir for as far he could tell but he was wary all the same. He was sure he could defend himself against a few thugs though- or at least distract them enough for him to slip away if worst came to worst.

 

If nothing else, he was intrigued. What did Slackjaw want with him? How had he even heard of him?

 

“ _Why not try?_ “ A little voice whispered in the back of his head, causing him to flinch before wondering if it had actually been " _them_ " or just his paranoid mind playing tricks on him. Either way, it was right. Deciding it couldn’t hurt to try and make another ally when he had so few he followed behind the thug and into the gang’s distillery, watching each and every one of the gangsters out of the corner of his eye as he passed. He kept his hand on his folding blade as they walked, grip tight against its hilt even as he stood across from Slackjaw himself.

 

What he wasn’t expecting was for Slackjaw to know that he was planning on getting the drop on the Pendleton twins- or that he was heading towards the Golden Cat. A little unnerved he agreed to do the gangster a “favor” in exchange for his help but made a mental note to watch his back a little better from then on. He had a crazy moment where he questioned whether or not the man knew because some inhuman entity had told him before dismissing the thought as ridiculous. What kind of otherworldly being would waste time whispering into the ear of a thug that some half-dead Royal Protector was heading down to a whorehouse?

 

He shrugged off the feeling that somewhere some deity was laughing at him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [[ Wow it's been a long time since I've updated! Sorry everyone I've been sick for nearly two months with the flu and had some irl stuff I had to do. That's all over with now though so here's a new chapter! Enjoy! I decided to go a little deeper into Corvo's thoughts and experiences this time.
> 
> As usual feel free to comment below! I love hearing what you all think! It makes my day. ]]


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